


I Surely Lost Myself

by kingconnor121



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Last of Us (Video Games) Setting, F/F, Inspired by The Last of Us (Video Games), Multi, Post-The Last of Us Part II (Video Game), The Last of Us Part II Spoilers, The Last of Us Spoilers, dina is done with ellies shit, ellie misses joel, local ellie gets in a fucky wucky, tommy misses joel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28914108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingconnor121/pseuds/kingconnor121
Summary: "Do it, you fucking bitch," Ellie spat, flecks of blood and saliva landing on her attackers mask. The knee on her neck got heavier, canvas pants rubbing and scratching at her throat.As the air from Ellie's lungs escaped under the strain, she started heaving and gasping, eyes flicking about, hand pawing at the knee and other trying to wrestle her knife from her back pocket.Then the knee let up, lifting off her neck, coming down beside her as a hand came forward and lifted Ellie up by the collar, and she finally got a good look at her assailants face.***A fic about Ellie's redemption, finally facing Joel's death with Tommy after leaving Jackson for the last time - Abby's pursuit of her father's work and knowledge lost to time, alongside her growing friendship with Lev.
Relationships: Abby & Ellie (The Last of Us), Abby & Lev (The Last of Us), Abby/Owen (The Last of Us), Dina & Ellie (The Last of Us), Dina & Tommy (The Last of Us), Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie & Tommy (The Last of Us), Maria/Tommy (The Last of Us)
Kudos: 3





	I Surely Lost Myself

**Author's Note:**

> well hello there, this is the first fic I'm writing on ao3 (big project to take on, I know), this fic is gonna be about ideas for what TLOU3 could look like in my eyes, following Ellie, Abby and Lev's stories post TLOU2. I will be taking ideas from other people's theories and hopes for the next game, as well as my own. Don't get your hopes up for constant updates, as I'm swamped with work and personal things.
> 
> For reference, I moved the timeline around a bit, as in, Ellie gets back to Jackson a year before she goes back to the farm in the Epilogue of TLOU2.

***

_" I struggled for a long time with survivin'. And you-" He paused, looking away for a moment._

_"No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for."_

***

Joel's words rung in her head, playing that moment over and over again. She took a deep breath. The cold air nipped at her, biting at her face. Another deep breath. 

In. Out. 

Sunset glow spilled over the frosted ridge, getting darker by the minute, as wind whispered through the pines and brush. Ellie took a step forward, glancing over the edge to the valley below where Jackson sat quaint among a clearing of trees and frost. She hadn't noticed till now, but she was shivering. Ellie looked... unrecognizable. Her red hair was matted and hung to her taut collarbones, wisps stuck to her forehead with blood, or sweat, or tears, she didn't care. Ellie was skin and bones, literally, her skin was tight and pockmarked with nicks and scratches, and if you lifted up her shirt you would see pale skin stretched over ribs and hips, any remnant of her previously muscular form gone. She looked like she had rolled in an infected's guts, dark brown blood up the side of her tank top. Ellie had tried to swap it for something on her way back to Wyoming, finding nothing but a ripped up FEDRA jacket in a supermarket she had holed up in in Nevada. She had spent a month there, wallowing. Still, it was far from enough layers, and as winter came closer, Ellie decided her best shot was just getting to Jackson before exposure killed her. It took a couple weeks to get to Nevada, and months after that to make her way back to Jackson. It wasn't like she was lost, but she took her time, like she was avoiding coming back.

A revolver was tucked into her back pocket, and a couple other guns, all dangerously low on ammo. She had lost her switchblade in her fight with Abby, lost to the waves as she sat and stared at the fog in front of her. The blood on her face had since been mostly washed off, but she looked worse than after any fight she'd been in. 

Even the one with Nora.

Ellie looked like she'd seen a ghost, face haunted and jaw clenched, temples flexing as she ground her teeth together in a grimace. Her eyes were vacant, a deer in headlights, flicking around at any sudden noise. When she'd finally managed to catch her breath, she made her way down the hill.

She swayed as she walked, or dragged herself, towards the gates of a twinkling haven called Jackson. A diamond in the rough of the world around the idyllic valley. Ellie’s head was pounding, aching, so badly. It was probably from lack of food, or water, or whatever, but somehow she was still pulling herself further, each step feeling heavier than the last. 

And there it was - looming about 20 feet in front of her - the gates to Jackson. The sky had gone from the colour of a bruise, to the navy of night, just a faint glow of sun on the horizon. Upon reaching her destination, Ellie’s body slouched, and she fell to her knees, right before being blinded by flood lights from up in the watchtowers. 

“State your business,” a booming voice from up in one of the towers, the one with the floodlight pointed down on her. Ellie opened her mouth to speak, but she could only muster a guttural croak. 

“State your business, or leave,” The voice repeated, harsher and firmer. Ellie cleared her throat, trying to get words out, but they wouldn’t come. She just collapsed on the ground in response, face buried down into dry, cool dirt. She didn’t hear, or see much after she collapsed. The rush of cold wind and buzz of light on her was melodic to Ellie’s ears. She felt she could just lie there forever. It was a good place to lie down and not wake up. It was peaceful, so peaceful. 

For the first time since leaving the farmhouse, she smiled. 

***

Ellie jolted awake in a fit of spluttering coughs, eyes struggling to adjust to the light. Once she caught her breath, she wet her chapped lips with her tongue and pursed them. Her eyes fluttered, flicking about for a moment to wait for the brightness of the lights to die down. 

She was tied down to a hospital bed, inside what seemed to be the Jackson clinic. Ellie had never really gone to the clinic before, she much rather would take care of herself. When her and Joel first arrived he had to drag her to the clinic, despite loud and indignant protests from Ellie. The clinic was a quaint affair, a block down from the Tipsy Bison, always bustling with people with small cuts and bruises from around the town, or people from patrols after spraining their ankles.

But, right now? The clinic was still. She could hear the shuffle of scrubs and boots outside the door, presumably heading to other wards. Ellie guessed it was early morning, from subdued chatter and chirping birds. She attempted to lift her arms, but they wouldn’t budge. She looked down at the straps on her wrists. 

“Oh for fucks sake.” Ellie grunted. 

She pulled harder at the straps, kicking up her legs - which, also, were fuckin' strapped up - and getting tangled in the thin bed sheet. Tommy must have been the one to tie her down, he knew the red-head too well. The first time Ellie was in a hospital bed in Jackson, she ripped the needle and tubes from her arms, kicked off the sheets and walked to the garage at the back of Joel’s house, in just a hospital gown. Well, only after stealing some jerky from a nurses station. 

The straps on her legs began to loosen, and she thrashed harder against them. She must have been making enough noise to alert someone, as the door burst open and Ellie heard rushed footsteps towards her bed. She couldn’t really see the person with all the thrashing and writhing, but she could hear the unmistakable voice of Tommy. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tommy murmured softly, like he was trying to calm a horse gone buck wild. He grabbed and held down Ellie’s legs, waiting for her to stop moving. 

“What the fuck is all this?” She protested, nodding to the restraints. Tommy stood up and sighed. 

“Had to keep you from making a runner,” Tommy said in that deep southern drawl he always spoke in. He walked over and untied her, and Ellie snapped her arms away from the bedframe to rub her sore wrists. She looked up at the man standing by the bed. His smile was sad, and face exhausted like he hadn’t slept in days. He probably hasn’t.

“How long was I out?” Ellie asked, pushing herself up to get off the bed. 

“2 days.” Tommy crossed his arms, sitting down in a rusted metal chair by the bed. The building was a renovated clinic from pre-outbreak, which was conveniently next to a motel, and Ellie was staying in one of the old rooms. It was sparsely decorated, a couple fold-able metal chairs and curtains for privacy. A few generic paintings dotted the streaky wallpaper, hung hotel style, nails in the frames. Getting the motel fitted out with drips and monitors had been near impossible, but with the towns close to Jackson and what was left in the clinic, they patched up solutions. 

“And when can I leave?” She pressed on. 

“Always asking questions, huh,” A different voice quipped.

“Maria?” Ellie looked up to see the lady standing in the doorway, hands on hips, gray hair up in a tight bun.

“How’s that side doing, kid?” 

Tommy was silent as Maria talked. Obviously, still broken up, Ellie noted. She groaned as she pushed aside the hospital gown, fabric giving way to her pale and skinny abdomen. A nasty scar ran up the side of her body, stitched up but still an angry, swollen red. 

“Hurts,”

“No shit.” Tommy chuckled. 

Maria sighed, looking at Ellie’s slumped form sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“You should get some rest,” Maria said, firm, but warm. She glanced between Ellie and Tommy, and walked out the door. 

Tommy opened up his mouth to talk, but Ellie cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“I don’t want to think about Santa Barbara right now, Tommy,” She looked up at him.

“I was just gonna say that I’m glad to have you back,” Tommy looked at his boots, and spoke slowly, “Get some sleep.” 

Ellie bit her lip as she watched the man hobble out the room, closing the door behind him with a click of metal. As soon as she heard his footsteps fading away, she pushed herself up from the bed and hobbled to the pile of belongings in the corner. Her backpack was there, still filled with old candy bars and her notebook. She grabbed the clothes stowed next to it, a clean pair of jeans, sneakers and hoodie.

Ellie slipped into them, looking at herself in the cracked mirror. The clothes hung on her frame like a coat hanger, falling and folding against her thin form in undesirable ways. It wasn’t much, but it was good enough. She pulled the hood up and limped towards the door, grunting in pain with every step.

She was in much worse shape than she thought. 

***

Sure, it had been a long time since she made this trek from the middle of town to the repurposed garage she called home for so many years, but it’s not like she would forget, right? 

Right.

Ellie was lost. 

Every street of suburban houses looked the same, all coated in a fresh layer of snow and light coming from a few windows. She’d been lucky to leave when she had, as dawn was slowly approaching and more and more people started to leave their houses for the day. She did not have the effort to make polite conversation to explain why she had vanished for 6 months and came back looking like she’d cuddled a clicker. 

She kicked the snow next to her in frustration, stubbing her toe on the curb of the sidewalk. In a string of obscenities muttered under her breath, Ellie saw the sign to the cemetery. 

All she had to do was walk through and she would land right in front of Joel’s house. 

Joel. 

Abby.

In. Out. 

Ellie made her way towards and through the archway, keeping her pace quick to avoid early risers. A cold wind fluttered through the streets, and her hoodie billowed and snapped against her skin. As much as she tried, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Joel’s grave. She knew exactly where it was, what it looked like in every season. How it looked in the rain, with water running down the grooves where his name was carved, how it looked in the summer, with sunlight bouncing off the smooth stone. Ellie never let it get mossy, or old and worn, taking her time to brush any detritus from where he lay. Still, even now, it was clean and in good shape. Tommy, she thought, he must have done it. 

This time, the small clearing where Joel’s grave was, wasn’t so empty. A gravestone, same design and font as Joel’s, stood next to it. It had a couple wilted flowers as it’s base, a couple cards, and footprints in the snow leading up to it. She squinted at the name on the grave, taking a couple steps forward to look at it.

_Ellie Williams_

***


End file.
